


Lemon Zero

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baking, Eating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 15:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Journalist John interviews Rodney to find out how he got started in baking, all while Rodney feeds him pastries.





	Lemon Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Written for whatif_au: food service challenge

“Here, try this one.” Rodney handed John a swiss roll with a perfectly crafted swirl. “I call it a Chocolate Buzz.”

John took a bite, his eyes widening. “Wow. That packs a punch.”

“It’s the equivalent of drinking two espresso shots.” Rodney pretty much subsisted on a regular diet of caffeine, so he liked to work it into his baking from time to time. The Buzz was chocolate sponge cake infused with espresso, filled with a light mocha cream, dipped in chocolate, with chocolate-covered espresso beans as a garnish on top.

“So you got into baking after the lab disaster,” John said, getting back to the topic at hand.

Rodney imagined John pulling out a notebook and a pen, like journalists in the days of old. He certainly looked the part, what with the rakish hair and lean, graceful body. There was no doubt John would remember everything Rodney said and recreate it for the personality interview he was conducting.

Normally Rodney didn’t like talking about what happened at the lab. No-one had died, but there had been some significant injuries. Someone had been careless with their volatile project, and there’d been a regrettable glitch in the automated safety system. Rodney had come out of the lab in one piece, physically. Mentally? That was a whole other story.

“There was a little more to it than that.”

*o*o*o*

_“You look unwell,” Carson said, giving Rodney a critical once-over._

_“Oh, really? Is that your professional medical opinion?” Rodney sniped back. He knew what he looked like, had seen the dark circles under his eyes and the weary expression on his face in the mirror often enough. “Can’t you give me something?”_

_“You know I can’t.” Carson had the decency to look aggrieved. “Finish your lunch. You need to keep your strength up.”_

_Rodney poked at the sandwich. He hadn’t felt like eating, or doing anything else, in weeks. In a perfect world he’d just stay in bed, curtains drawn, and ignore everything else. But the world wasn’t perfect, and his annoying friend-slash-physician kept coming around to make sure he was still on his feet._

_“Have you even looked at the list?” Carson asked._

_“I’ll get around to it,” Rodney grumbled._

_“Well, and now you’ve forced my hand. I’m making a call and getting someone over here today.”_

_Rodney didn’t have the energy to protest. Truth was, he hadn’t consulted the list because it seemed like another failure. Surely he could take care of his niece on his own, without any help. Jeannie had managed it every day. But Madison had come to him just days after the explosion at the lab, which had already made Rodney jumpy and anxious and unable to sleep. One of those situations he could’ve dealt with, but together…well, he deplored the word ‘impossible’ but it fit his situation all too well._

_“I’ve another suggestion for you as well,” Carson said, pulling the list from the corkboard where he’d left it days ago. “Baking.”_

_“What?”_

_“It can be very therapeutic, and since you’re being daft about seeing an actual therapist, this might be suitable.”_

_Rodney pushed his plate away. “I can’t bake. I can barely cook.”_

_“You’re a man of science, Rodney. And baking is just chemistry and physics. Or I can schedule you an appointment with Kate Heightmeyer and make sure you go this time.”_

_“I hate you,” Rodney said with a sigh._

_And then Madison started crying for her mother, her nap all too short, and Rodney despaired of ever sleeping again._

*o*o*o*

“Sounds rough,” John said sympathetically. “But obviously you took the doctor’s advice.”

“I was desperate. And the bastard was right, which he’ll never let me forget.” Rodney plucked a pistachio macaron off the tray and handed it to John before helping himself to one. “When you cook something on the stove, like marinara sauce, you can just add things willy nilly. It could turn out different every time. But baking is different. With baking, you need to know the function of each ingredient, and how it interacts with the other ingredients. Measurements, baking temperatures, timing…it all needs to be precise in order to get consistent bakes.”

“Was it easy getting started?”

Rodney snorted. “No. There were some pretty big disasters early on.”

They were manageable disasters, though. One ruined pastry was meaningless. He could just scrap the dough and start over. No-one got hurt, no-one died, and once Rodney got the hang of it, the little victories were that much sweeter.

“When I bake a cake,” he tried to explain to John. “I have an immediate, tangible result. I don’t have to deal with theories or simulations or endless data verification. The cake is either good or it’s not.”

John nodded. “I get that.”

“Baking became a way to get out of my own head for a while. It really helped.”

“How did therapy baking turn into opening your own bakery?”

*o*o*o*

_“Thank you so much, Dr. McKay,” Mrs. Langley gushed. “These look amazing!”_

 _They_ were _amazing. Two trays of perfectly crafted, nearly identical eclairs, decorated with the school colors and filled with Rodney’s own custard recipe. Madison’s Kindergarten class was having a bake sale and all the parents had to provide something. There were a lot of brownies._

_“You made those?” Kellie Allen, the mom to one of Madison’s little friends, eyed his pastries with a calculating eye. “You know, Trina’s birthday is coming up next month. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in making some desserts for that? We’d pay you, of course.”_

_Rodney had agreed and made a selection of diminutive desserts with pink frosting and sugar butterflies. Word of mouth spread from there, until Rodney was getting requests from complete strangers for cakes and pastries and cookies. His kitchen turned into a baking factory, so much so that he and Madison were getting takeout for dinner almost every night._

_Teyla, who had started out as Madison’s nanny and become more of a friend to both of them, eyed the mess in the kitchen as Rodney worked another ball of dough._

_“This is becoming overwhelming,” she said. “You cannot keep working out of your kitchen this way.”_

_“I suppose I should be working out of the garage?”_

_“You have many orders coming in,” Teyla said, refusing to respond to Rodney’s snarky comment. “Perhaps you should start to think of this as a career, and not just a hobby.”_

_Rodney paused, hands full of dough and flour up to his elbows. “What?”_

_“If you had your own bakery, you would have a larger, more efficient kitchen. And a steady source of income.”_

_As if Rodney needed the money. He hadn’t gone back to work after the lab disaster, but he was still consulting from time to time, keeping his hand in. Still, he could see what Teyla was getting at. He imagined a bigger kitchen, with several ovens and gleaming stainless-steel workstations. He wouldn’t have to shift around juice boxes and Go-Gurt to get to his ingredients. The idea had merit._

_“I’ll consider it,” Rodney said, getting back to work._

*o*o*o*

“That’s how Lemon Zero was born,” Rodney said. He took a sip of wine from his glass.

“The only citrus-free bakery in the city.” John grinned. “And only a week in, you’re doing a staggering amount of business.”

“I wouldn’t say staggering, but yes. I have to admit I had my doubts about how well we’d do. I mean, there’s no shortage of bakeries around here.”

“No-one bakes like you,” John said. 

“Evan comes close.”

Opening a bakery meant hiring staff. There was a girl who manned the counter, boxing desserts and handling the money. And there was Evan Lorne, a lucky find who’d been recommended by the friend of a friend of Kellie Allen’s. Evan was a former military pilot who’d been taught to bake by his grandmother, who herself had trained as a pâtissière in Paris. He wasn’t as technically skilled as Rodney, but he had a natural talent. And he was much better at dealing with the customers.

“Try this turnover. It melts in your mouth.”

“You’re killing me, McKay,” John complained, but he ate the turnover anyway. “How do you get it so flaky?”

“It’s all about proper lamination of the dough. There’s a precise series of folds and butter work that has to happen to get it to come out right. It’s not a quick process.”

Rodney wasn’t an overly patient person but learning to bake had forced him to become one. There was no rushing the process. Some doughs needed to prove for hours. Jellies and mousses had to set. Depending on the bake, some preparation had to be left overnight. Waiting time could be spent washing the dishes he dirtied, or prepping another part of the bake, or practicing more with bread dough.

It had helped him be patient with Madison as well. They both grieved the loss of Jeannie and Kaleb, and that wasn’t something that could be rushed either. Sometimes Madison acted out, sometimes she withdrew, and Rodney had learned when to push and when to leave her be.

As if reading his mind, John asked, “What does Madison think of all this?”

Rodney grinned. “She loves it.”

*o*o*o*

_Madison’s first grade class had a career day, for which she insisted that Rodney not only make a presentation about what it was like to be a baker, but also provide plain cupcakes for her classmates to decorate._

_“It’s more fun than just eating them,” she said._

_Rodney had given in, as he always did. The day before the presentation he baked forty-eight vanilla cupcakes and packed up different containers of icing and decorations to go with them. He gave his speech, with countless excitable interjections from Madison, and then the class gathered around to decorate their own cupcakes._

_His presentation was the most popular, even moreso than Kyle’s firefighter dad who’d brought in red plastic hats for everyone._

_“Uncle Mer is the best baker in the world,” Madison told her classmates. Rodney had found himself unexpectedly choked up at that._

_He decided to include a cupcake station at Lemon Zero, where parents could let their kids go crazy decorating their own cupcakes while they took the time to look over the other desserts on offer and make their purchases. He called it Cupcake Corner and hung up a picture of Madison with one of her elaborately decorated cupcakes. After school, Teyla would bring Madison by and she’d help other kids. She had her own pint-sized apron printed with her name and a big cupcake on the front._

_“Did you bake with Mommy?” Madison asked once, while Rodney was showing her how to make thumbprint cookies._

_“No. I didn’t know I liked baking back then,” Rodney answered honestly. “But your mom loved to make little cakes. She had an Easy Bake Oven when she was about your age, and she used it all the time.”_

_Jeannie hadn’t been much of a baker, really. Her cakes always came out lopsided, and sometimes weren’t cooked all the way. But she’s always been proud of them, and Rodney had always pretended they were the best cakes he’d ever eaten. They hadn’t been very close when Jeannie died, which Rodney would always regret, but he hoped he could help Madison grow into a woman Jeannie would’ve been proud of._

_Madison could already make a far superior cake._

*o*o*o*

“What’s next for Lemon Zero?” John asked.

“I don’t know, honestly. I guess I’ll keep trying out new things, see what works and what doesn’t.” Rodney offered John another macaron, this one mint chocolate chip.

John groaned. “You’re gonna make me fat.”

“You’ll just have to exercise more,” Rodney said. He ran his hand down John’s hairy chest and splayed his hand across John’s abdomen. “I don’t mind being your workout partner.”

John tossed the macaron back on the tray that was sitting on the nightstand. “You’re on,” he said, rolling on top of Rodney and kissing him soundly. He tasted like chocolate and coffee and red wine.

It was supposed to be a simple personality interview for the _Tribune_ , something Evan had set up to get publicity for the bakery. But John had loitered around the bakery till closing, and then they’d had dinner out. Dinner had turned into drinks, which had turned into Rodney offering John a private tasting back at the house. He still wasn’t quite sure how they’d ended up in bed, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

“You better not interview everyone this way,” Rodney said, tipping his head back to give John access to his neck.

“Only the ones who supply me with top-quality baked goods,” John assured him. 

“Challenge accepted.” Rodney rolled them so he was on top, straddling John. “You’re ridiculously hot, you know. There’s so much I want to do to you.”

John stretched, a smirk on his face. “So you’ve said. How about you show me?”

Rodney proceeded to do just that. For the second time that night.

Baking had been intended as therapy, a way for Rodney to work through his feelings in a constructive way, but it had become so much more: a career; a way to bond with his niece; a doorway to new friendships, new opportunities, and a new relationship with a man that Rodney never would have imagined himself capable of attracting.

Baking had changed his life.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** It was a no-brainer that when a food AU challenge came up Rodney would be a baker. I’ve been binge-watching _The Great British Baking Show_ , which I can’t get enough of, and this is the result of that. Originally I had something much longer planned, but that’s been shelved for now due to time constraints.


End file.
